


Human Touch

by Orionis



Series: Shepard-Vakarian: Expanded [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Sex, Analysis, Awkward Garrus Vakarian, Established Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Mass Effect 2, POV Garrus Vakarian, Paragon Shepard (Mass Effect), Pining, Pre-Mass Effect 3, Reminiscing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orionis/pseuds/Orionis
Summary: Set between the end of ME2 and the beginning of ME3. Garrus reflects on his last goodbye to Shepard, after having become intimate with her for the first time. In the lull before the storm, there's time for introspection...and some intense reminiscence.
Relationships: Female Shepard & Garrus Vakarian, Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Series: Shepard-Vakarian: Expanded [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069295
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	1. Last Contact

**Author's Note:**

> So. I marathoned ME1-3, 100%'ed all of them, and ended up bashing out about thirty thousand words' worth of Shakarian scenes in note form. The following is an expansion of one of those scenes, inspired by the hints Garrus drops regarding the...extra research he does after being romanced in ME2. Enjoy!

Leaving the Normandy hadn’t been easy. Leaving Shepard again had been near impossible.

Orders were orders, of course, and he’d known that they couldn’t exactly run away with the ship; they’d done it once before, yes, but things were different this time around. The destruction of the relay hadn’t gone down well on Earth and there was the diplomatic fallout to deal with over that – though privately, “shitstorm” was the word he would have used. The Commander, upstanding and damned proper as she always was, took full responsibility for her actions and had set a course back to Earth to face the brass. And because she hadn’t wanted the rest of them implicated for her tough call, what had followed had been a long string of goodbyes, the team dispersing, human and non-human allies alike going their separate ways.

That left him here, back on Palaven,

It was frustrating. This was exactly the kind of crap that got under his plates at C-Sec. Shepard had bought the Alliance and the galaxy precious time against the Reapers, and if he knew her – which he very much did, after all of their time together – then she sure as hell wouldn’t have made that decision lightly. If she’d had any other choice, any other option at all, he knew she would have found some way to save that colony. But it hadn’t panned out, politics were politics, and it wasn’t a good look for a human to blow up Batarians, unintentionally or not. Damn it… Not too long ago, she’d been facing them down in the Blitz, holding her own against thousands of them out to kill one of the _human_ colonies. On _purpose_.

Only the stuffy bureaucrats and diplomats back on Earth didn’t know what it was like out here, or what was coming for them. They just saw the paperwork, and the paperwork was sacred. Doing it by the book was the only way they knew, no matter what was at stake. Interspecies diplomatic situations always needed addressing, especially in the aftermath of the First Contact War. The Council had made sure to drill that into them.

Garrus let out a sigh, unbuckling his armor and rolling the stiffness from his neck. Outside, an early rain was battering the window; dry season was ending.

You would think times had moved on. Turians and humans were slowly warming to each other, helped in no small part by the great melting-pot that was the Citadel – something which nobody would have thought remotely possible thirty years ago. When he had been born, their species had been at each others’ throats…and now here he was, back from a human ship after serving with a human Commander.

Ah. The Commander.

That goodbye had been _rough_. Especially since the last time they’d said their farewells like this, it had been on the SR1 and she had _died_ not long after. He hadn’t forgotten that fact. It had been hanging in the air between them with unspoken tension when they’d last stood together. He’d clasped her hand in front of the crew, stiff and formal as protocol demanded, of course, but in his eyes and his deepest subvocals he had silently told her: “ _Don’t die again_.”

And that had been that. He’d stepped out the ship for the last time, watched it leave the docking bay. Stood there too long and nearly missed his shuttle.

But he wasn’t naïve by any means; he knew how it was from experience. Relationships on vessels weren’t always long-term deals. That was the nature of the job. You finish your mission, you move on. If you’re lucky you get to stay in contact and hope your next shore leave coincides. And besides, there had been so much at stake that he had had a lot to occupy his mind with in these months following the end of his time on the Normandy; that at least was a small mercy.

Everything between him and Shepard had happened so _fast_ …when you thought you were going to die, life had a way of accelerating itself, somehow. There’d been such restlessness in him on the approach of their last, desperate strike at the Collectors: so much that Shepard herself had apparently picked up on it. That casual talk they’d had…it had started like any other conversation, innocently enough, and then his anecdote about the scuffle with that scout had unexpectedly led to a…very different conversation later. He hadn’t known it had put any ideas in her head until she’d pretty much spelled it out for him. That was what had started it. And then things had led to…Hmm.

Well. Maybe it had all been physical. Sating a need, scratching an itch. _That_ he could understand. It was a hell of a lot easier to explain than his Commander falling in love with him. His talons tightened where they rested on his thigh, just at the memory of his very first explorations over soft human flesh. Finding out what an alien woman felt like. Compact muscle, steely under a smooth, velvety surface that beaded with perspiration when things got going. Heat against his belly. Remarkable flushes of red at her collarbone, over her face and ears, so sensitive to his touch – and ten fingers, trailing along his neck, firing up all of his sensitive spots at once…some he hadn’t even known he _had_.

Garrus closed his eyes, almost dizzy with the recollection. There was no doubt in his mind that he was her first turian. Not that that was a bad thing, because it had felt _good_ to be slowly explored. The relief had been intense. He knew he’d die happy after that.

And then…they hadn’t died, and weeks later he was watching the Normandy leave, heart sinking, not wanting to think about how it felt that part of him was taking off with that ship. But there was nothing to be done; that was how it was. Just like she had a duty to her people, he had a duty to his, and to all of Palaven. It was disorienting if he thought about it too hard. They all needed to be forewarned and forearmed against the Reapers, which were now undeniably coming. Shepard had shaped him into a leader in his own right, given him renewed faith in his experience and tactical knowledge. She’d entrusted him with leadership of the second strike team on their last suicide mission, demonstrating her belief in his abilities. They went back a long way, the two of them, and he had to use what he’d learned from her to help prepare for the inevitable battle on the horizon.

But even in the flurry of work and the challenges he’d been occupied with in his new role as expert advisor on the Reapers for the Hierarchy, he had never been able to take his mind off her completely. Not after all that they’d been through together. And that first time she’d flirted with him outright, he’d been shocked. Sure, they’d had banter before, but when she had made her intentions clear to him with that damned smirk on her face he had been caught completely off guard. No idea how to react, what to say…even now it hadn’t fully sunk in yet. How many missions had they been on together, how far did they go back? He had never imagined at any moment that she could be attracted to him, given their huge physical differences. He had never even given much thought to her romantic life in general, seeing as she didn’t seem to have one. But after she had intimated that she’d like for it to involve him…it had become a topic that was on his mind a _lot_.

Like now.

Garrus eased the last piece of armor from his shoulders, dropping it on the bench and trying to focus on getting it dismantled rather than dwelling on his damn feelings like a confused teen. But there were some things he just couldn’t shake: like the fact that he regretted not having had the time or presence of mind to look into any damn vids back then, in all the confusion and general chaos. He’d still been caught up in fine-tuning the Normandy’s weaponry, never quite finding the time to buckle up and do some _research_ on the human species _._ What made things worse was that some of the other crew members seemed to have noticed their…budding mutual interest in each other. The memory of Kasumi’s catty, knowing smile whenever she saw him and the Commander in the same room still filled him with embarrassment. That and the pristine copy of Fornax he had found lovingly tucked into his bunk one night. You just couldn’t keep a secret on a ship.

_There’d been so much going on_. And it had been such a crazy idea Shepard had had, anyway. All of it threw him off balance, when in most other aspects of life he’d prided himself on his experience and poise. He had a _lot_ going for him, normally. This should have been easy; he was usually a confident lover, and his military prowess had never hurt his popularity with the ladies either. By turian standards, he’d even say he was very attractive as a mate. If you had the strength, the courage, the physical power, you had every excuse to…swagger a little. But with Shepard…with Shepard he’d been reduced to a nervous virgin, fighting to keep his head above water, desperate not to put her off him somehow. All of his confidence was out of the window, nervous that he might misstep and ruin the unexpected, delicate little shoot she had put out towards him. He valued her too much as a companion and a partner in arms to want to make an ass of himself in front of her…but at the same time he hadn’t been able to deny that taking the edge off his restless energy with her sounded tempting.

So he’d agreed. He’d agreed, and then ended up slaving over that Thanix cannon for days afterward, obsessing over it, honing it to perfection just so he would stop _overthinking_.

In hindsight, that was probably why it had taken him almost until the last moment to take the elevator up to that final floor, where Shepard’s cabin was. Sneaking up there like a guilty kid, heart in his mouth, every muscle in his body tight as if ready to fight or flee…but he’d known very well that if he didn’t do this now, he’d regret it for whatever was left of the rest of his life.


	2. First Contact

The Commander’s cabin had both impressed and intimidated him; it was clear that Cerberus had spared no expense in fitting it. Nothing had looked remotely military-issue in there, least of all the ridiculous fish tank taking up most of the port-side wall. But the belongings he’d seen in that room had been arranged with a soldier’s precision: Shepard’s personal touch. Maybe she’d felt a little out of place in here.

One more thing that had been immediately obvious from the doorway had been that damn bed, and he’d had to fight against the nerves leaping up inside him at the reminder of what was going to transpire there. Spirits, he needed to grow a pair. He _knew_ Shepard. It wasn’t like he was jumping into bed with a stranger. Her body might be alien to him, maybe, but she herself…He was already close to her. How hard would it be to take things a step further? He’d looked around, scrambling to break the ice, to say anything witty…and his sharp eye had ended up catching the old N7 helmet on her table, soberly displayed with little ostentation, bathed in the soft light of the fish tank.

Garrus sat down heavily, picking up his rifle case and toolkit, suddenly needing to occupy his hands with something, but he couldn’t block the memory out. All the details of that helmet were still painfully etched in his mind. He’d known what had happened to Shepard and the original Normandy had been bad, but…seeing the physical evidence of it had struck him _hard_. He hadn’t been able look at the thing for long; if he knew the craftsmanship on that kind of armor, it took a _lot_ of damage to even dent a piece of gear like that. This helmet – the very same one he’d always seen her face behind back in the old days – had been ripped laterally by some great force, the carbon fiber melted down to expose the interior shell at the crown, and there was a whole _chunk_ missing down by the crumbling faceguard.

He didn’t want to think about Shepard – the same woman who had let a hot-headed C-Sec officer tag along with her to take down a rogue Spectre, who had laughed with him in the rec room and dragged his ass out alive from every battle that had gone south – going through anything that could have done _that_ to a piece of N7-grade gear. But he’d heard the official reports. She’d been spaced, they’d said, alone and adrift in the empty void with the wreckage of her ship. It was unimaginable. After all the things she’d done and the millions she’d saved, she had needed help herself, then, but nobody had been there to save her. The galaxy truly was an uncaring bastard. It hadn’t mattered, in the end, that she’d done so much for so many; she had wound up falling from space to ground anyway, burning up in the atmosphere, dying what had surely been a horrible death.

One of the screws he’d been toying with slipped from his fingers to tinkle on the tabletop. Distracted, he picked it back up again, slotting it into its place. He didn’t know if it had it been quick, if the blast had finished her, or if Shepard been alive through the fall, and he had never wanted to ask. It wasn’t the kind of thing you brought up. Or ever wanted to even think about, for that matter.

…And yet _there she’d stood_ , right there across from him, for the most part unchanged after what had happened to her; eyes still glimmering at him, _alive_ , fringed in lashes, and that little line still showing up at the corner of her mouth when she smiled. She’d been looking at him with such soft amusement that he could have almost fooled himself into thinking they were just normal people, awkwardly figuring each other out. Warmth had swelled in him, affection, chasing away the cold of the horror he’d been feeling. How easy would it be, he’d wondered, to just…forget the past and future, for one night?

That was where he’d fumbled, trying to do everything by the book, to get it absolutely right – music, alcoholic offering, complimentary expressions of interest…that was how you played the game, wasn’t it? It had been far too long since he’d done this. But it had all been wrong…the music was too fast, the wine was cheap and his flattery of her only made his ignorance of human custom all the more obvious. He was in uncharted territory, completely out of his depth, foundering and filling with defeat --

And out of nowhere she’d reached out to him. She had thrown him a line to save him, even in the mess he was making, and broken the ice with a smile and a playful jibe. Reminding him plainly and simply that she _knew_ him, and that he didn’t have to impress her, because all that was already done. That was when he knew for sure that she wanted him.

Suddenly she wasn’t a daunting, alien female conquest to puzzle over. She was just _Shepard_ again – familiar, warm Shepard, irreverent in ways that always put him at ease. He’d realized then that he didn’t have to think of her in turian terms, or in terms of a high-stakes game to prove his worth…there was a natural way of doing this. They were just two people, fooling around before the end. Blowing off some steam.

Garrus’ mandibles quirked, eyes growing soft as he unslotted parts from his rifle with the ease of practice, laying them out on the tabletop for a clean-down.

His Commander, always the leader, always knowing what to say and what to do. How she did it he had no idea... She had somehow still _wanted_ him, even after all the awkward crap he’d come out with. It had made him open up to her, finally, without even knowing it, to drop the awkward improvised courtship ritual and let her know his true feelings…

His hand paused over the nanofibre cloth.

…He wouldn’t have called it sex, really, what had happened between them immediately afterward. It hadn’t quite been the expected roll around they’d been talking about and that he’d been nervously preparing for. But it had been a definite release of tension either way; sitting together on her couch, getting to know each other by simple touch, shivering at the right caresses in the right places. Just…learning each other first of all, laughter dispelling any awkwardness before it could take hold.

That had also been the first time she’d kissed him – right there on his scarred side, sweet and gentle. He still vividly remembered the warmth and disarming softness of her lips against his mandible, face close enough for him to count every freckle, and how aware he’d been of the way her mouth molded to the hard edges of his face-plates. Carefully, so carefully, he’d turned into that point of contact between them, not quite knowing what to do beyond parting his jaws and praying she didn’t get herself caught on his teeth. It had felt _good_. Not only that, but she had really never seemed to mind the fact that half of his face was horribly disfigured by turian standards. Her hand had been gentle around the metal brace that fixed his mandible in place while it healed. The touch had felt…comforting, which he hadn’t expected.

Lounging there with her in his arms, he’d also been pretty relieved that they hadn’t immediately gone straight to the act itself. He’d had no idea how that was meant to come about, with humans. He doubted she’d have appreciated him tearing off her civvies with his talons and mounting her with little preamble. Unless that was her thing. Hell, maybe that was what she’d expected from a turian.

But he knew, somehow, that Shepard wasn’t just interested in a turian. They’d met countless other aliens on their missions together, after all, and she hadn’t seemed to give them a second glance. No, she was interested in _him_. Her squadmate, her stubborn companion. Being Archangel couldn’t have hurt his chances, either, he thought with a little pride. He would hazard that even if he’d been a volus she’d have invited him up to her cabin.

Well. Maybe had a drink with him, at least.

So instead of fumbling their way around each other straight away, they’d just…been intimate. They’d sat together, he’d stroked her hair for the first time, and they’d talked. _Really_ talked. She’d told him about how she felt about him – candidly and earnestly, without the playful sidestepping and innuendo. And what she’d said had moved him. A lot of it he’d had no idea about.

Turians weren’t big on this kind of intimacy, as a rule. But it didn’t mean that they didn’t _want_ or _need_ it. Sometimes the best part of a hookup was the cuddling afterward. With Shepard, they’d gone right to that part, and when he’d left her cabin it had been with her scent stamped all over him, a huge weight off his shoulders, and a warm glow in his heart.

Garrus smiled to himself.

After the whole terrifying battle at the Collectors’ base had been over with, and they’d been on their way back through familiar territory, she’d started calling him up over the intercom now and then. These had been his favorite times; even with the threat of the Reapers on the horizon, their battles had been won for now, and there was time to enjoy each other after having cheated death again, just like old times. Only _now_ he’d known she wanted him, and he was coming to terms with that just fine.

He’d sit on her couch again, relaxed now, a bit more of his usual swagger back, and she’d slide herself comfortably over onto his lap, a warm and comforting weight perched across his plated thighs. They would flirt and caress one another like proper lovers, freed from the burdens of their duties, being sweet and at ease together where nobody could see. That meant that when things had eventually, inevitably, gotten hot and heavy, he’d been ready. Oh, _very_ ready. Still nervous, of course, but it wasn’t just nerves that had made him quiver like that this time. Oh, no. When he’d let himself give in, it had all become _easy_ , instinctive, never mind that she was a little differently shaped to what he was used to. In fact, it had been one hell of a rush, finding out just how well the naked human form molded to a turian’s angular body. Her rounded hips could really press tight against his, her skin so warm against the flesh between his plates, her legs hooking over his spurs when he’d…

Garrus had to stop his train of thought there before he could ruin the threads on the screw he was tightening.

Anyway. He’d been privately glad that his first time with a human had been with a seasoned N7 soldier like Shepard – a relief to find her taut and muscular and lithe under her clothes, able to shove him around and give as good as she got without getting hurt. He’d been a little nervous about her lack of plates, her thin skin, but he should have known by then that that woman could really hold her own.

That was why it had surprised him, the first time he’d tentatively hooked a talon under her shirt to lift it over her head, that she had actually seemed shy for a moment – _her_! The Commander! The one whose idea this had been in the first place, and who always knew what to do. But once he’d started running his hands over her exposed skin, she’d turned fiery and urgent in no time, forgetting to care about nakedness or how _weird_ their mismatched bodies looked beside one another.

He must have been doing something right. The reward when her emotions took over was like nothing he’d ever known…Damn, he could still remember the rush of pheromones that had hit his nose, the way her pulse quickened and her hands clutched tight at him, taking control of his body in a way he’d never realized he needed so much. They’d shoved each other around on the battlefield before, covering one another from debris or pushing each other over obstacles…but that physical contact had felt nothing like _this_. And her voice, so soft against the hollow of his carapace, making sounds that produced a very physical reaction in him just at the _memory_ …In that moment, she’d given him a glimpse at the woman behind the war hero, Spectre and Commander.

Hah. If his former C-Sec buddies who’d teased him on nights out ever heard that their old pal Vakarian had had sex with a _Spectre_ – the first _human_ Spectre, at that – they’d never believe it. He hardly believed it himself, and he’d _been_ there. On her. Under her. _Inside_ her…

Garrus let out a shuddering sigh.

“Damn it,” he muttered, putting down the scope with a thunk, closing his eyes. He was never going to get this damned rifle cleaned tonight. It would just have to wait until morning; his head was somewhere else. He threw the cloth back into the toolkit, rubbing at his temples in frustration. What was _up_ with him? Why was he obsessing over this, when the chances of seeing her again were so slim? It wasn’t like him to not be able to shake the creeping doubts, either. His relationship with Shepard – whatever that relationship might be – was full of firsts, and there wasn’t anything he could do about that. Wishing he’d had the foresight to research more wouldn’t do him any good right now.

But the doubts still persisted. _Had_ he really done all that well? The mechanics of it had felt easier once he’d let his instincts take over, but…had that been a good thing, for her? The bite had definitely been a stupid move. He’d apologized profusely about that, until she’d shut him up with a kiss. And later she’d had to help re-set his brace when they’d gotten his mandible caught in her hair. But…he definitely remembered her saying “ _yes_ ” a lot, towards the end, if he’d heard correctly under his own snarling. Maybe humans didn’t go so wild on each other? He’d have to settle this in his mind, once and for all.

He was going to have to dig out the damned datapad. Load up some vids. For his own sanity, he’d have to know, and once he knew…well. Once he knew, he’d rest easy, safe in the knowledge that if he and Shepard ever crossed paths again...he would be _prepared_.


End file.
